Glorious red hair
by mrsteresajane
Summary: Anne doesn't leave Gilbert when he needs her the most (Anne with an 'E')
1. A light in the darkness

She watched him stand alone beside his father's grave in the quiet of the snow covered evening. The mischievous twinkle in his eye had vanished and in its wake she saw his clenched jaw, the pale determined face of a boy turned man overnight. He just- looked so sad. Far from the boy who'd offered to slay dragons for her before even knowing her name. Far from the boy who'd tugged at her pigtails and called her "carrots". Far from the boy who'd let her beat him at advanced spelling because he could see she wasn't feeling well.

After asking permission of Marilla, Anne gently trudged back through the snow towards Gilbert Blythe. She stood by him a while, feeling awkward and uncertain and positive that she had made a mistake. He sensed her presence but said nothing. He had nothing to say. His dark eyes flickered down to meet hers and she was grateful to see they were beautiful as ever, even when they were sad, and that they held no distaste for her within them. So she slipped her thin, warm fingers between his cold ones and silently prayed that he would get through this and manage to remain the Gilbert Blythe she secretly liked so much.

When he did return to school several weeks later, he was surprised to find that Anne had taken to walking him home. He wasn't sure how this development had come about but he sure as hell wasn't complaining. She filled the cold silence that often threatened to envelop him with her incessant chatter. She would describe the trees with her too big words, or talk about their lessons in school that day, or how beautiful Ruby Gillis was and how charming a wife she would be (although he was certain the little blonde had put her up to the latter). Ruby was sweet but held no interest for him, she didn't have bright red hair or exuberant eyes, or little dimples when she smiled. She didn't read school poems with passion and she had no big ideas in her head other than which boy in the classroom she could wrangle into being a decent husband.

Gilbert missed his father deeply, couldn't bear to look into the now empty room with its untouched sheets. But Anne helped bring a little colour back into his world, how could she help it with that hair like freshly peeled carrots? He couldn't bring himself to say much to her in return, but made sure to smile at her whenever he was able to catch her eye so she wouldn't stop accompanying him home.

As the winter melted into a beautiful crisp clear spring, he came to know Anne Shirley Cuthbert like the back of his own hand. By this time he could predict just where in her freckled cheek, a dimple would appear if he made a joke (and he made sure to do this as often as he possibly could, feeling very rewarded indeed when she flashed him her teeth). He knew that she used big words because she couldn't express the numerous thoughts in her head with the plain, simple ones they were taught in school. He knew she had suffered before, knew it every time she flinched away at a loud sound or sudden movement. And he knew she was special, Anne Shirley Cuthbert, whose friendship was hard earned but worth every fist fight, every rejection, worth the small indentation near his eyebrow from her chalk slate.

"Why do you want to leave Avonlea so much, Gil?" she asks, her plaintive voice breaking through his thoughtful reverie. He liked when she calls him that, adores the familiarity it suggests, this small intimate thing that links him closer to her. He looks down at her, his heart leaping at the thought of telling her that she is the only reason he remains here, his brain reprimanding the very idea. "My father always reminded me it's a big world out there, Anne. I want to know it. See it all. Avonlea is so small".

She looks thoughtful, as if she had never even considered the idea of a life outside of Avonlea. "It is small, but it's my whole world" she tells him. "I love it here".

"So there's nothing that could persuade you to leave Avonlea just for a while, just to see what's out there?" he asks carefully, peering at her furtively through thick, dark eyelashes. Her reply is just as careful, equally measured. "Well there might be someone- I mean something, but I hate the thought of leaving Green Gables, I love Marilla and Matthew so". She stutters her way through the sentence and trails off when she sees him watching her intently. They hold the contact for a moment, grey-green piercing deep brown, till she startles backwards, losing her balance. He reaches for her elbows out of instinct, stabilising her against his chest. This causes her to startle even further and in the kerfuffle they both end up on the ground, amid the long sweetgrass that surrounds his house. Anne laughs as the grass tickles her pretty, freckled nose and he joins in, unable to help himself. They sit there in the damp grass for awhile and he inches his fingers closer to hers. She intertwines her fingers with his and he can't help the way his heart speeds up as she rests that red, glorious head against his shoulder. The afternoon sun warms their faces and the presence of the other warms their hearts.


	2. Passing days

With them it was always one step forward, then two steps back. She had a fierce temper, and God knows she was obstinate once she put her mind to something. And for all Gilbert was level-headed and calm he matched her in her obstinacy, unwilling to back down once he made a decision.

Theirs was certainly an odd friendship to say the least. Anne's first impression of Gilbert had been cemented by his comments on her red hair (an issue that was rather sensitive in the cuthbert household) and were something along the lines of; "I hate this boy". Gilbert's first impression of Anne on the other hand, had been cemented as she brought the slate crashing down upon his head and were something along the line of; "I'm going to marry this girl". As the school year progressed and they were both faced with hardships and small pleasures, these first impressions evolved and changed as they grew to know each other in different ways. These days Gilbert had more to think about, his father's death a heavy weight upon his chest. He was now the owner of extensive farming grounds and property which he hardly knew what to do with. He yearned to travel, to see the mountains his father had spoken of in those last months of his sickness. But he remained in Avonlea all the while suspecting that a certain red headed girl had something to do with the matter.

They fought nearly constantly, about little things like who's idea to use for their school project and big things like whether Gilbert should stay in Avonlea. When Gilbert tried to make peace by changing the subject, Anne often bit back at him for contradicting her in the first place. They would go back and forth till her thin face turned so red Gilbert could nearly match it with her hair. (Of course valuing his life he never endeavoured to tell her this). But in the heat of their arguments just as Gilbert felt the urge to yell at her, his eyes would always fall upon her heated cheeks and he would be reminded of just how pretty she was with her chest rising and falling and her braids coming undone. Any other boy would have turned on his heels and fled a long time ago, but he was heartened by the sneaking suspicion that she did care for him. Maybe a whole lot more than she ever let on. Gilbert saw fleeting glimpses of her affection in the way she sneaked over in the early hours of the morning to leave him pies on his doorstep. He knew that it was her doing and she knew that he knew, but neither acknowledged it aloud, content to leave this tender gesture unvoiced. He saw it in the way Anne appeared by his side whenever someone brought up his father and hovered there long after, anxiously watching his face with her fingers inches from his, in case he needed her. Gilbert wasn't proud to admit this and indeed never would, but on the rare occasion he allowed his lips to quiver so that she would take his hand and squeeze it like she had grown accustomed to doing. Her hand in his was gravity, holding him down and reminding him why he stayed despite this town that reminded him dreadfully of his loss.

And she did care for him, thought she would never admit it. Anne Shirley Cuthbert cared for Gilbert Blythe a great deal. But she wasn't used to the kindness he showed her, was not used to having a friend like him and it was her first instinct to build high her walls and force him away. She berated him with mean words and often pushed him just to see if he would push back. Anne kept waiting for him to wake from this beautiful dream they were sharing and realise he could never want a homely, orphan girl for a friend. But it never happened and as the days, turned to weeks and then months, Gilbert Blythe was planted firmly in her lungs like the cherry blossoms outside her bedroom window.

In school she reserved her feelings more than ever whilst Gilbert did the complete opposite. If anything he was even more attentive to her, the first to quash any mean comments from Josie Pye or point out to Mr Phillips that indeed it was not he who was better at writing but Anne. Having a new dark-haired guardian angel meant that the other children dared not make any comments about her being an orphan but it also meant Ruby pulled away from her at lunchtimes every time Gilbert placed an apple at Annes desk rather than hers. Anne knew it was unfair to lash out at Gilbert for Ruby's behaviour but she had never had friends like Diana and Ruby before, and they were one of her highest ideals of earthly bliss.

"Why don't you give Ruby your apples?" she implores of him but he never listens and continues on with the same maddening (endearing) habit of placing a small crisp apple on her desk every morning.

Her favourite time with him is their walks home. The path home never seems long enough when they are immersed in conversations about nothing. Anne wonders how his eyelashes can be so long, doe-like, fanning out against his cheeks like fans. She wonders how his dark eyes can be so beautiful, can't even meet them when he looks at her, it is like looking into the sun. She wonders at the way he purses his lips together when she says something he can't quite figure out. Sometimes she takes to learning long new words that she can hardly understand herself, from Marilla's geography books so she can puzzle him and see those glorious lips press together. Aloud she says "you know your hat makes you look quite scruffy!". Gilbert scoffs in mock hurt. "Why Anne, why do you hurt me this way? Won't you ever show me some mercy?". Marilla who had come out into the yard to collect her washing, let her hand rest against her chest at the striking resemblance the pair bore to her and John. It brought with it a strange pang of longing but she smiled just the same at the way Gilbert tugged at one of Anne's braids fondly even as she threw cheeky insults his way. Perhaps they would write out the "what ifs" she had always wondered about when she hadn't gone away with John. Perhaps this is was the universe's way of righting itself.


	3. Untied braids and untied shoelaces

Gilbert decided he didn't mind Anne. In fact he didn't mind her at all. He didn't mind when she went off on one of those rants of hers, so caught up in her own imagination that she was lost to to those around her. He didn't mind when she lost her temper, her red braids seemingly alive as they bounced in time to her voice. He didn't even mind when she nagged about his shoelaces, which were nearly always coming untied. "...and you know they're just a hazard to your safety in general you know Gilbert" the redhead was saying earnestly. He blinked, having missed most of her passionate speech being wrapped up in thoughts of her. Her cheeks reddened. "Gilbert Blythe! Are you listening to me at all??" She demanded, crossing her arms and staring him down through narrowed eyes. "Yes, yes of course" he rushed to say. "You know you could be walking down that ridge near Barry's pond and you could trip over that left lace of yours and you could fall right off the cliff! She animated vividly, her cheeks getting brighter as she narrated this unfortunate mishap he would supposedly commit. "Why! Why you could die!" She realised. Gilbert watched in amusement as her exuberant eyes filled with what looked suspiciously like the beginning of tears. "And if you die- why I'll kill you! You'd better believe it!" She cried. He bit down hard on his lip to stop from allowing the laugh that threatened to bubble up, from surfacing. He sneaked a glance at her. Her cheeks were more freckled than ever from the late afternoon sun. Her chest rose up and down as she glared at him accusingly for a wrong he hadn't even done. Her pigtails were coming undone and so there were strands of red hair dancing against her reddened face. She was lovely.

"Gilbert!!"

"So let me get this straight Anne, if I die...you'll kill me?" he teased, tugging a strand of that delightful hair and tucking it beyond her ear.

Her cheeks darkened another shade and looking him directly in the eye she very slowly and determinedly untucked the strand of her hair from behind her ear. "Yes I will and furthermore, I'll have you know that I wear my hair like this on purpose!".

He snorted unattractively, clapping a hand against his mouth at her obstinacy and this caused the corners of her mouth to twitch upwards.

"Well if it means that much to you..." he agreed, winking as he let out an exaggerated sigh and bent to tie his left shoelace.

"It doesn't!" she declared adamantly (but she bent down to double knot them firmly just the same)


End file.
